The Good Neighbor

Mid-afternoon of a mostly cloudy Sunday, looking out at the front yard from a table under the evergreen tree, and the mosquitoes are a-buzzing. I’m fast learning how to gear up for time spent in the yard when dampness, or whatever it is draws the females from their caves. I read in a book somewhere that only the female mosquitoes bite, but if that is true then what do the males do for their vampirish needs? The prevalence of mosquitoes here in Oak Hill reminds me a little of Louisiana where in certain places and times of year they can be ferocious. This area has seen squalls of rain for each of the past several days and along with a refreshment of everything green, it’s brought out the mozzies. For refreshed green, notice the lush Liverwort wrapped around the trunk of the tree behind the table. A few days ago that was completely brown and shriveled. I thought it was dead. 

With the help of family this morning another great heap of stuff got loaded up and delivered to the house. I have the bookcases here now, but am reluctant to fill them as they become too difficult to move with books in them, and there is good chance I will want to shift furniture around finding the best arrangement. All the books are now in the country, but wait in tall stacks around the walls of both bedrooms. Eventually, they will find a spot in bedroom or living room. For now I am doing my best to sort them all, arranging the categories. For the past three years my shelving has been mostly random, but this time I hope to bring a little more order to the shelves. For too long Moby Dick has stood pressed against Captain Jack’s Woman.

The heavy lifting these past few days is starting to show in the bone-deep tiredness I feel each night. Returning to the beach last night it was all I could do to make it from dirty clothes to shower to bed. And then at 7:30 this morning I got a text from sister Beverly saying, “On the way. Get ready to load cars!” Well, thank God for family and friends, but without a push I would have slept until noon on this traditional day of rest for everyone but coal miners.

Had a good talk with my closest neighbor earlier. Randy and his wife divide their time between Florida and New Hampshire and will be returning north in about three weeks. He is a goldmine of information for someone like myself who is new to the area. But in connection with something I realized a week ago, these country folk are quick to offer help. The reason Randy came over was to ask if there was anything he could do to assist with the unloading and carrying of bins from car to house. A few minutes later the subject turned to lawnmowers and Randy offered, “If it turns out the lawnmower needs repair, give me a call and we can put it in my truck and take it to the shop.”

A restaurant not far from here serves breakfast for $3.18. They offer what they call a 2-2-2; two eggs, two pancakes or slices of French toast, two sausage or slices of bacon and coffee. Hard to eat breakfast at home for that price.